


alignment of the planets in your hands

by lissome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 16 and 18 :')), Fluff, M/M, harry is psychic, tiny suggestion of ziam i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:16:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lissome/pseuds/lissome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can see the future.</p><p>He doesn't see <i>his</i> future, not until he meets Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alignment of the planets in your hands

**Author's Note:**

> kudos to my gf for inspiring this idea ♥♥

The first time it happens, Harry’s five.

He climbs out of bed, having just been tucked in no more than ten minutes ago, and pads into the living room where his mum is sitting on the sofa, reading. She’s absorbed in her book and doesn’t notice Harry standing there until he says, “Mummy, Gemma’s gonna break a plate.”

He’d seen it happen in his head: Gemma opening the dishware cabinet, straining on her tiptoes to reach a plate too high for her, losing her grip on the plate once she manages to snag it, the plate falling to the marble floor and shattering.

Anne starts at the sound of his voice. “Harry? What are you doing out of bed, baby?” She beckons him over, putting down her book and pulling him into her lap.

“Gemma’s gonna break a plate,” Harry repeats solemnly. The words have just left his mouth when a crashing sound comes from the kitchen. Anne immediately stands and quickly makes her way to the kitchen, Harry in her arms. Gemma’s staring at the shards of what used to be a plate, eyes wide and frightened. Guilt is heavy on her face when she sees Anne.

“Sorry, Mummy,” she whispers. “It was an accident.”

Anne ruffles her hair. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. Are you hurt?” Gemma shakes her head. “Good. You should go elsewhere, Gem, I don’t want you stepping on this or cutting yourself accidentally.”

Gemma obediently scampers off to her room, and Anne sets Harry down with instructions to stay there and away from the pieces of plate. She then disappears and returns with a broom and dustpan and sweeps up the porcelain, dumping the shards into the bin and leaning the broom against a wall before turning to Harry and softly asking, “How did you know that was going to happen, honey?”

“I saw it,” Harry tells her. “Like a movie, Mummy. But in my head! Isn’t that cool?”

Anne nods slowly, almost to herself. “That’s very cool. Can you do me a favor, H? Can you only tell your movies to me?”

“Not even Daddy? Or Gemma?”

“Nope. Our little secret.”

Harry beams, revealing a missing tooth. “Okay, Mummy!”

Anne smiles and kisses his head. “That’s my baby. Now, back to bed we go.”

She tucks him back into bed, smooths his curls and drops a kiss on his forehead before saying “Goodnight” and turning off the lights. Harry sleeps with the door open because he’s a bit frightened of the dark, so he doesn’t miss his mum speaking in hushed tones on the telephone before he falls asleep.

\--

Harry doesn’t quite grasp the full extent of what it is he can do until he’s nearly eight and the visions have been coming more frequently.

It really hits him, though, when he sees his mum and his dad separate before it actually happens.

He doesn’t understand the vision at first, so he doesn’t think about it. And then his parents sit him and Gemma down, tell them gently that Mummy and Daddy have decided to go their separate ways, that Daddy’s going to be leaving and that he won’t live here anymore, we’re sorry, we love you, Daddy will always love you both.

Gemma takes the news with a crumpled face, running first into Anne’s arms and then Des’, asking “Why do you have to go, Daddy?”

Harry, however, is inconsolable, bawling and clinging onto Des, tears and snot dampening his father’s trousers. Des soothes him, says that he won’t be leaving immediately, and Anne wipes the tears from his face while his sobs die down into hiccups.

Des stays for about another two years, and by the time he does leave, it’s a little easier for Harry and Gemma. Not much, but they’re older then, and they understand better. They know they’ll get to see their father again.

Not too long after Des’ departure from the family, Gemma is let in on the secret.

“You can see the future?” she squawks, eyes bugging. She looks from Harry to Anne, as if waiting for them to crack and tell her that it’s all a joke. Harry just nods. Anne rests her hands on Gemma’s shoulders.

“I thought it was time for you to know,” she says. “But you mustn’t tell any of your classmates. Promise?”

Gemma’s still gaping, but she promises.

(Any doubts she might have had are erased when Harry tells her, four days later, that Jimmy Martin is going to give her his chocolate today, and she skips home with a Cadbury bar.)

Harry isn’t able to see everything, like who would be the next Prime Minister or natural disasters before they strike or anything like that; his visions are limited to his immediate world, such as his friends, classmates, family, and himself.

Outside of his family, the only person who knows is Harry’s best friend, Niall. Anne had sat Harry down and given him the whole talk about how he should be careful with disclosing his ability to others and to only tell the people he absolutely trusts. Harry definitely trusts Niall, so he hadn’t hesitated in telling him. Niall had taken it into stride almost immediately, as that is Niall’s nature; he’s easygoing, breezing through life without stressing too much about anything.

When he’s twelve, he tells Zayn and Liam, who have quickly become Harry’s two other best friends. It takes a while, but with Niall backing Harry up and some very convincing showcases of Harry’s ability, Zayn and Liam come around eventually.

Being psychic isn’t all fun and games, as Harry had come to understand when he saw what happened with Anne and Des. But it’s definitely not a curse, not when he gets to have visions that show him how happy his mum is going to be with her future husband, or Gemma’s face when she brings home the straight A’s she’s been wanting so badly. There are worse things than being able to see the future.

\--

The first time it happens, Harry’s sixteen and in biology class.

He's at the lab tables with Niall, working on their class activity, when the world around him seems to tilt and disappear in a rush of color. That itself isn't the unusual part; it happens every time Harry gets a vision. No, the weird thing is, this time, Harry doesn't really get a vision. All he sees is a mass of indistinguishable blurs, the normally vivid colors of his visions muted to the point of almost being greyscale. It’s as if he’s looking through opaque glass, or squinting through fog.

He jolts back to the present quicker than usual, the vision having been notably shorter than the norm. His head spins a little--what had just happened?

"Niall," he whispers urgently. Niall looks up at him from where he's jotting down test results in his notebook, eyebrows raised questioningly. "I can't see."

"Bro, write your own shite down, I'm not letting you copy my paper again."

"No," Harry hisses. "I mean I can't _see_."

Niall's eyes widen in understanding. He grabs Harry's bicep. "What do you mean? What happened?"

Harry explains, taking longer than he probably needs to (as he’s prone to do), and by the time he's done, both his and Niall's brows are wrinkled with confusion.

"What d'you think that means?" Niall asks. Harry shrugs.

"I've no idea. It's never happened before." He frowns, an idea suddenly dawning on him. "Do you think my ability's fading? Like, it's on its way out so I can't see clearly now, and then it'll disappear completely?"

Niall ponders this for a second. "I dunno. Could be?”

"I guess it wouldn't be so bad to not have it anymore, though, y'know? Be, like, normal." But even as Harry says this, he knows it's not true. His ability to see the future is a part of him; no matter how much he sometimes resents it, if he doesn't have that, then he's not really himself. He can't imagine not having visions the same way he can’t imagine missing an arm.

He can tell by the way Niall looks sympathetically at him and pats his shoulder that Niall knows, too. "Don't go jumping to conclusions, mate. Give it some time. Maybe it's just a one time thing."

"Yeah," Harry nods, picking up his pen to return to his lab work, "Yeah."

\--

It's not a one time thing.

When he has a vision standing at the urinal a few hours later, it's the same thing--desaturated colors, nothing but blurs. It's the same the next day at lunch, and the day after in second period, and the day after, and the day after. It keeps happening, and Harry doesn’t get any more used to it.

"Maybe it's a sign," Zayn suggests at lunch, a week after the strange visions had begun. "Like, something's gonna happen soon that you're not meant to see."

Niall slaps the table. "That's brilliant, Zayn!" He nearly spews chunks of the sandwich he’s eating everywhere. Zayn smiles at the compliment.

Harry, slowly chewing his salad and only half paying attention, shrugs. "Maybe."

Liam ruffles his hair affectionately. "Hey, cheer up. If that's true, then you'll have your vision back after the thing happens."

Harry's not really-- _sad_ about it. He just feels off-balance, not seeing what's going to happen. It's discomfiting, like he's wearing his shoes on the wrong feet.

Telling his mum had only added to his confusion. Anne had given him a mysterious if sympathetic smile when he described what was happening, kissed his cheek, and told him, “It’ll sort itself out, sweetie.”

Harry really wishes it’d sort itself out soon.

The bell rings to signal the end of lunch, and he quickly shovels the rest of his salad into his mouth. Slinging his bag over his shoulder and saying his goodbyes to Zayn, Niall, and Liam, he heads to his locker to grab a textbook for his next class. As always, it takes him a couple of tries because he accidentally twists the dial too far or not enough and misses the right number.

He’s just painstakingly spun the lock to the last number in the combination when the familiar head rush hits him.

Unsurprisingly, and rather disappointingly, the vision is the same: amorphous shapes, everything seemingly shrouded in fog, muted colors. But this time, as the vision fades, a flood of warmth hits Harry, as if he’s just stepped into a hot shower. It makes his face flush and his toes tingle.

Harry stares at his closed locker, eyes wide.

“That was so weird,” he breathes to himself. That warm feeling has disappeared just as quickly as it came, but Harry can still feel its traces, can still feel the heat in his stomach.

The piercing sound of the late bell breaks Harry out of his reverie. Shaking his head, he runs off to class. He forgets his textbook, but it’s not like he pays any attention at all in class, his mind too busy turning over what had just happened.

\--

“I’m home, Mum,” Harry calls, shutting the door behind him and brushing his windswept hair out of his face.

“Hi, honey.” Anne’s voice drifts from the kitchen, and Harry drops his bag on the living room couch before slipping in next to his mum, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She smiles at him, rinsing off the plate she’s washing. “How was school?”

“It was alright,” he says slowly, trying to decide if telling her would be conducive to figuring out what’s happening to him. As always, however, his face gives him away, and Anne immediately shuts the faucet off and wipes her hands dry, turning to face Harry with a raised eyebrow.

“What happened?”

Harry sighs. “I dunno, it was...weird.”

“My son is psychic. I think I can handle a little weird.”

“I know, it’s not that, it’s just…” Harry sighs, rakes a hand through his hair. “After lunch, I went to my locker to get my textbook for class, but like, I kept messing up my lock combination, and I was going to be late for class already as it was. Then I finally got the combo right, and I was about to open the locker, when I had a vision--the same weird ones I’ve been having. Only this time, I got this, like, really warm feeling all over my body once it ended?”

“Oh, honey,” Anne whispers, and her hand is over her mouth, her eyes crinkled in a smile.

“What are you smiling for?”

Anne shakes her head, still smiling, and puts her hand on Harry’s cheek. “You’ll see. It’s nothing to worry about, H. It’ll--”

“--sort itself out soon?” Harry asks wryly. Anne nods.

“Yes. And that’s all I can tell you for now.”

Harry sighs; he knows there’s no use in pushing Anne for answers. She has to have a good reason why she’s not telling him whatever it is she’s not telling him, and he trusts her no matter how frustrated he feels. So he leaves the kitchen with a mumbled, “Thanks, Mum,” grabs his bag from the couch, and retreats to his room to do homework.

Thirty minutes later, he’s still staring at the first problem on his maths worksheet. He’s restless, unable to focus, something making him feel jittery and all over the place. He spares one last glance at his worksheet, deems it a lost cause, and stands up. He hasn’t gone to his favorite juice bar in ages; he’d love nothing more right now than a stroll and some cold-pressed juice to calm his mind.

Pulling on his coat and tugging a beanie over his curls as he thuds down the stairs, he shouts that he’s going out and will be back in a couple of hours. He barely hears Anne’s reply as he slips out the door and shuts it behind him, relishing the feel of the cool outside air on his face. He sticks his earphones in, thumbs through his iPhone to pick a playlist, and sets off at a brisk pace, paying attention only to the music and his feet hitting the pavement.

Suck It Up isn’t far from his house, and Harry’s pulling open the heavy glass door before the fifth song on his playlist is over. It’s light and refreshing inside, the decor bright and modern, all whites and citrusy greens. It smells like fresh fruit. Harry has really missed this place.

Already knowing what he wants, he gets in line behind the three or so other people waiting. His eyes settle on the cashier--he must be new, since Harry’s never seen him before, and he frequents this place enough that he knows all the employees. The new guy has feathery brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and features that remind Harry of a pixie: a cute nose, sharp cheekbones, blue eyes that scrunch up when he smiles. He’s really quite lovely, and Harry’s kind of staring.

He forces his gaze away until it’s his turn to order. Only then does he allow himself to drink in the boy before him. Up close, he’s even lovelier--his features are delicate and soft, all thick eyelashes and smooth skin. His name tag says “Louis” with a little smiley face.

“What can I get for you today?” High voice with a bit of rasp. Harry is enamored with it already.

“Strawberry Sweetheart, please,” Harry says, not missing the way Louis’ eyes dip quickly to Harry’s mouth and back up again.

“Absolutely,” he answers, punching a couple buttons on the register. “Will that be all for you this fine day?”

“Um, yes, thank you.”

“Can I get your name?”

“Harry.”

“That’ll be four fifty, Harry.”

Harry digs a fiver out of his wallet and hands it over. His fingers brush Louis’ as he does, and suddenly, the world tilts violently around him and he gasps as his vision is filled with an explosion of colors, hypersaturated and loud, like all the color leached from the visions he’s been having have been collected and dumped into this moment.

It doesn’t last long. When Harry returns to the present, he’s gripping the counter so hard his knuckles are white.

“Hey, you okay?”

The question takes a while to register with Harry, and he slowly meets Louis’ concerned eyes. He swallows. _You did that_ , his mind screams at Louis. _You did that, you did that, you did that_. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Just a...a, um, head rush.”

“That must have been one hell of a head rush,” Louis says, his eyes wide, and Harry realizes that he must’ve scared him.

“I guess my blood sugar’s a bit low,” Harry lies. And then, knowing an opportunity when he sees one, follows up with, “Maybe something sweet like you can help?” He adds his most charming smile despite the frantic pounding of his heart.

Louis blinks, looking caught off-guard, and then bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god, what was that?” he wheezes. “What kind of line--where’d you get that one from?”

“Hey now,” Harry says mildly, not even offended because Louis’ laugh is so lovely. Louis is so lovely, and Louis just made something happen to Harry’s vision, and Louis is giggling as he scribbles something down on Harry’s receipt and hands it over along with Harry’s change.

“My shift ends at six,” he says, still smiling as Harry stares at the numbers scrawled on the receipt. “Now move along, Curly, I’ve got a job to do.”

Harry obediently shuffles away, a bit shaky from both the vision and the exchange with Louis. He’s still reeling when his name is called and an employee he knows, Josh, hands him his drink. Louis had brought the color back. He’d touched Louis, and all he’d seen was color. What does that mean?

Sipping on his juice, Harry plants himself at a table in the corner. A glance at his iPhone shows that it’s nearing four thirty; he can definitely wait an hour and a half.

He unlocks his phone to several message notifications from the group text he, Niall, Liam, and Zayn are in. It’s just a couple questions about homework and some banter, so Harry doesn’t feel like he’s interrupting anything when he texts, _I think I can see again._

A barrage of replies sets his phone buzzing madly, strings of congratulations and questions. Harry suppresses a smile and simply answers with, _I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Still got some experimenting to do xx._

With that, he exits his messages and opens up his contact list. He taps in Louis’ number, puts _Louis :)_ as the contact name, feels embarrassed, deletes the smiley, and then decides “Fuck it” and puts the smiley back in. His face mirrors the emoticon.

He’s scrolling through a photography blog, occasionally glancing up at Louis, when another vision hits. But it’s still not right; what he sees is in full color but seems to be in fast-forward, going too quickly for him to see clearly, voices distorted into high squeaks. It ends with an abrupt cut-to-black, like hitting a wall.

Harry slumps in his seat, head in his hands. He doesn’t understand. He’d been so _sure_. His gaze wanders to Louis again. This time, Louis glances over, and their eyes meet. Harry smiles, as if by instinct. Louis winks at him before turning back to the customer he’s helping.

And the thing is, Harry can’t even bring himself to dwell on his psychic bullshit when he’s got Louis right there, and Louis’ number programmed in his phone, and Louis’ promise of six o’clock, and holy shit, Harry has no idea what they’re going to do at six. Wracking his brain, he trashes about two dozen ideas before he decides on something that’s casual but still kind of romantic. God, he hopes he doesn’t screw this up. Or have a vision again and have Louis think he’s some kind of weirdo.

Six o’clock arrives surprisingly quickly. Harry watches as Louis disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes, his laugh ringing out sharp and quick, and then steps out through a door labeled Employees Only. He’s wearing a knit jumper and a smile.

“You know, you really didn’t have to wait here,” he says as he approaches Harry, fidgeting with one of his sleeves. “Or is my charm just so massively irresistible that you couldn’t bear to pull yourself away?”

Harry barks out a laugh. “That’s definitely it.”

They just stand there smiling at each other for a moment before Louis scratches his neck and says, “So, what’s the plan?”

Harry clears his throat. “I thought we could, uh, get some takeout and then go to the park for a picnic?”

Louis arches his eyebrows. “Bringing out the big guns from the start, huh?”

“I do, I do like the big guns.”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up again, a laugh pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I bet you do.”

“Oh god,” Harry groans, though he’s half-laughing too. “Let’s just go.”

They head out the door, still exchanging banter, and it’s ridiculous how easy it feels with Louis already. They literally just met less than two hours ago, but Harry has never clicked this fast and this well with anyone, not even Niall. It just kind of _happens_ , and Harry is more than happy to go with it.

They settle on getting pizza, Louis whining that all those hours at that “health hell” juice bar have severely deprived him of the “good shit.” Harry takes offense at that, obviously, and they spend the entire walk to the park playfully bickering about the merits of health food.

By the time they get to the park and settle on a bench to eat, the sun has begun to set, basking the world in its soft orange glow. It carves shadows into Louis’ face, the deep hollows under his cheekbones. He looks otherworldly.

“Have I got sauce on my face or something?”

Harry blinks, realizing too late that he was staring. Louis looks at him with a bit of a smirk, a bite of pizza making one of his cheeks bulge out. It’s incredibly endearing.

“I just think it’s weird that you picked your toppings off,” Harry says evasively, eyeing the small pile of bell pepper, olives, and onion on the lid of the pizza box. Louis shrugs.

“Don’t like em.”

“You should eat them, they’re good for you.”

“What are you, my mum?”

“I really hope not.”

Louis cackles at that, flicking an olive at Harry and hitting him square in the forehead. He really loses his shit then, bending over and laughing and laughing. Harry picks the olive up from his lap and eats it. Louis laughs harder.

“You’re in uni, yeah?” Harry asks once Louis’ calmed down a bit.

“Affirmative.”

“Hmm. I figured.”

“Yeah?” Louis turns to Harry with one corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “And you still went for it? Highly admirable, Harry, I must say.”

Harry laughs. “I’m surprised you said yes, quite honestly.”

“But I never said anything about this being a date, Curly.”

Harry almost takes him seriously, his heart going into overdrive, until he sees the twinkle in Louis’ eyes, the way his lips are twitching, fighting a smile. Harry rolls his eyes and shoves lightly at Louis’ shoulders.

“So this isn’t a date?”

“Mm, never said that either,” Louis says, grinning, and he’s closer now, close enough that Harry can see the shadows Louis’ eyelashes cast on his cheeks. Harry licks his lips nervously, and Louis’ eyes track the movement.

Harry’s phone rings. Louis starts and leans back a little at the sound, and Harry catches the flash of disappointment that runs across his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry apologizes, struggling to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket. When he checks the caller ID, it’s his mother, of all people. He sighs and, with another apologetic look at Louis, picks up the call.

“Hi, Mum.” Louis snickers, and Harry shoots him a glare.

“Hi, H. I just wanted to know if you were coming home for dinner?”

“Oh, um, no, I already ate, sorry Mum. But I’m kind of...in the middle of something right now?”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Harry can hear his mum’s smile. “Sorry, honey. I’ll talk to you when you get home. Love you, bye!”

“Love you too, Mum.” He hangs up and shoves the phone back into his pocket, cheeks glowing a bit with embarrassment.

“Someone’s a Mummy’s boy,” Louis teases. “Aww, you’re blushing!”

“Am not.”

Louis grins and pokes Harry’s cheek. “You’re adorable. No worries, though. I’m in the same boat as you.” He lowers his voice then, dramatically whispering, “My mum still calls me boo bear.”

“Boo bear?” Harry laughs. “I like that. But with your name, I think I’d go with...Lou Bear.”

“Okay, stop that right there,” Louis says in mock affront. “That was horrible. You do have some shit lines, Curly.”

“Heyyy,” Harry protests. Louis pats his shoulder comfortingly.

“Don't worry, you more than make up for it with that pretty face."

Before Harry can sputter a reply, Louis asks, "So what do you like to do besides make terrible jokes?”

Harry tells him about photography, about how he wants to study business or be a lawyer, about his summers and holidays spent working at the bakery. He rambles a fair bit, but Louis isn’t shy about interjecting snarky comments and regaling Harry with tales of his own. By the time there’s a lull in their conversation, the sky is nearly completely dark, the park’s lights illuminating them in a white glow.

“I should probably head home,” Harry says reluctantly.

“Yeah, Mummy’s expecting you.”

“She is, _boo bear_.”

Louis laughs. “Ooh, instant kill with that one!” He stands up, cracking his back before offering his hand to Harry and pulling him up. His hand lingers a bit in Harry’s before he pulls it back, but it’s not nearly long enough for Harry.

“You need a ride home?” Louis asks, brushing pizza crumbs off his jumper. Harry starts to shake his head, then reconsiders. Getting a ride home means more time with Louis.

“I’d like that, yeah, thanks.”

The conversation during the drive to Harry’s house is slow and comfortable, none of the silences awkward. It’s a short ride, and they arrive far too quickly.

“Um, thanks for today,” Harry says, unbuckling his seatbelt, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. “It was fun.”

“Aw,” Louis coos. His expression turns softer. “I had fun, too.”

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime, Curly.”

“Well, goodnight.” Harry opens the door.

“Harry.” Louis has his hand on Harry’s arm. “Text me, yeah?”

Harry grins, his heart soaring. “Definitely.”

Louis smiles. “G’night.”

“Night.”

Harry steps out and waves as Louis pulls away, smiling dopily the whole time. He waits until Louis’ car turns the corner and is out of sight, and then turns around and makes his way to the front door. Before he can even get his key out of his pocket, though, his vision spins.

Bright colors. Louis. Louis laughing, Louis winking, Louis in a sweater that looks suspiciously like one of Harry’s. The moments flicker past quickly, one after the other, and then there’s that same abrupt cut to black.

There’s no way Harry can be upset about this one, though, because he’d seen Louis, and that means Louis is in his near future.

He’s still grinning when he lets himself into the house and shouts a hello to his mum. She calls for him to come to the living room, where she’s sat reading. She takes one look at him and smiles.

“Looks like someone had a good time.”

“I definitely did,” Harry says, settling down next to Anne. She puts her arm around him and pulls him into her side.

“Tell me about him.”

“His name’s Louis. He works at Suck It Up and he’s, um, he’s very funny. And very good looking. He likes pizza and he’s got four younger sisters. And he’s, like, really easy to talk to. We just get on.”

“You like him, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Well, bring him over for dinner anytime.”

“Mum!” Harry laughs. “Isn’t it a bit too early for that?”

Anne holds up her hands, laughing too. “I didn’t say now! Bring your boy over whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Now, have you finished your homework?”

“Um...yes?”

Anne swats Harry’s head. “Go on. To your room.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” He kisses her cheek before standing up and heading towards the stairs.

“Wait, H,” Anne calls. Harry turns back around. “How’ve your visions been lately?”

Harry bites his lip. “Oh, uh. The color’s back. Just happened today, actually.”

“That’s great, honey!” Anne says, doing that mysterious smile again. Harry sighs inwardly.

“Thanks, Mum.” He starts climbing the stairs to his room.

This time, it’s thoughts of Louis that distract Harry from his schoolwork. He’s barely done half of his worksheet when he caves and pulls out his phone, hesitating before sending Louis a text that simply says _Hiii. It’s Harry._

His phone buzzes not a minute later.

_hello ! :)_

Wow. An exclamation point _and_ a smiley. Harry feels like he’s on top of the world.

It takes him about three times longer than usual to get his work done that night, as he’s constantly pausing to text Louis. Louis is just as much of a chatterbox over text as he is in person, and he has Harry laughing out loud several times. Even better than that, though, is the fact that by the time they say their goodnights, they’ve made plans to go out together this weekend.

Harry falls asleep with the knowledge that he’ll see Louis in two days warm in his mind.

\--

“So can you see again?” is the first thing Niall asks the second Harry sits down at their lunch table the next day.

“Umm, kind of? It’s a long story, let’s wait until Zayn and Liam get here before I explain.”

Zayn and Liam don’t get there for a while. When they do appear, their hair is mussed, their cheeks suspiciously pink. Harry raises his eyebrows.

“Where’d you two run off to?”

“Uhh,” Liam says, turning pinker. “KFC.”

“What the hell, man?” Zayn hisses at Liam.

Niall flaps his hand at them. “They were off necking somewhere, who gives a shit. Now tell us what happened, Harry.”

“Can you see again?” Liam asks as he and Zayn sit down, their eyes intent on Harry, apparently eager to divert attention from themselves. Harry figures he'll attend to that later.

“Yes and no.”

He tells them everything, gushing a fair bit about Louis in the process.

"--and we're going out again on Friday, can you believe it? Well, I guess you technically can believe it, since he was in my visions and all, so--"

"Harry," Niall interrupts. "90% of that was about Wonder Boy. I think we all get it."

Liam and Zayn make agreeing noises.

Harry sips his soymilk defiantly. "He's just so--"

"Wait," Zayn cuts in, his hands held up. "So you meet this guy, you touch him, you see color. Then you go on a date, and then you have a vision involving him. You obviously like him, a lot. What if this is like, some destiny kind of thing? Like, you two are meant to be and this is the universe’s way of letting you know."

They all stare at Zayn.

“So, like...soulmates?” Harry says slowly.

“Precisely.”

Liam frowns. “You really think that’s a thing?”

Harry, who’s watched every romantic movie on Netflix and has seen Love Actually and The Notebook ten times, nods. “Definitely.”

“Of course you do.” Niall pats Harry’s cheek fondly.

“Wow,” Harry whispers. “Soulmates.”

“We don’t know if I’m right,” Zayn says warningly. “So don’t go proposing to the lad today or anything.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shut up. I know it might not be right.”

He does think he can confirm it, though.

\--

"Mum? Do you believe in...soulmates?"

Anne puts down her fork, surprise in her eyes, and hums thoughtfully. "I suppose I do."

Harry waits expectantly for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t say anything more, so he prods, “And…?”

Anne exhales slowly. “And...I do believe that every person has one person who’s the love of their life, yes.”

“Would I know if I found mine? Y’know, since I’m psychic and all.”

“Yes.”

“And…?”

Anne pinches his nose and rolls her eyes at him. “You’ve already figured it out, huh?” She sighs. “I was hoping you wouldn’t, at least not until you’d had the time to properly fall in love. But I suppose you kind of have to rule that out when you’re psychic.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So the reason my visions have been all weird is really because I’ve met my soulmate?”

“Yep.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because my mother went through the same thing when she met my father.”

Harry gapes at her. “You never told me Nanny was psychic!”

“Well, now you know.”

“How come you’re not psychic, then? If it’s like, a genetic thing.”

“It apparently manifests every other generation. So your grandkids--or, Gemma’s, more likely--will be the next to inherit it.”

“Okay, but wait, so...me and Louis?” Harry asks, eyes wide. Anne nods, a smile spreading across her face.

“That boy’s it for you.”

\--

Later that night, Harry has a vision. It’s all Louis, and this time, there’s nothing strange about it.

\--

Harry’s entire body seems to be thrumming with nerves when he sees Louis’ car pull up to his house. Adjusting his shirt collar and running a hand through his hair one last time, he grabs his coat and the single red rose he’d bought earlier that day and runs down the stairs, nearly tripping and falling flat on his face. He pulls himself together right before the doorbell rings. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Louis is smiling and soft, his hair tucked into a grey beanie, and Harry’s heart beats three times faster.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi,” Harry breathes. He hurriedly sticks the rose in front of Louis’ face. “This is for you.”

“Harold!” Louis gasps. “You shouldn’t have!” He’s blushing as he takes it, and he can’t seem to hold back his smile. Harry likes him so much.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Shall we?” Louis proffers his arm.

Harry curtsies. “We shall.” He takes Louis’ arm.

Louis tucks the rose into a corner on his dash when they get into his car, promising Harry he’d put it in some water when he got home.

He also refuses to tell Harry where they’re going, shoving his hand in Harry’s face when Harry tries to pull the puppy dog look. Harry fakes offense and pouts, arms crossed. That doesn’t last long, because Louis reaches over and takes his hand, and all Harry can do is smile.

They end up on the top of a grassy hill, a blanket spread beneath them and a bottle of wine between them. From here, the stars look brighter, and Harry feels like he’s in a world created just for him and Louis, one filled with laughter and small touches and warmth.

Three fourths of the bottle later, they’re laid down on the blanket, Harry tucked up against Louis, his nose pressed against Louis’ neck. They don’t speak, Harry’s stomach hurting slightly from laughing so hard at Louis’ jokes.

Louis breaks the silence first. “Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I like you a lot.”

Harry smiles and burrows closer into Louis’ side, so unbelievably happy. “I like you a lot too, Lou.”

After a second’s hesitation, Louis twists to kiss Harry tenderly, and Harry absolutely melts. He can’t believe this is his life right now. It’s just mental, isn’t it, that he’s sixteen and he’s kissing the boy who’s meant to be the love of his life for the first time.

But with the way Louis looks at him when they pull apart, his expression impossibly soft, Harry thinks that he can’t wait to fall in love.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :^D


End file.
